


Scars

by ginnyred



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Confessions, Fluff, M/M, Pillow Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 01:55:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18907135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginnyred/pseuds/ginnyred
Summary: “How did you get this?”Marti's fingers trace the scar on Nico's arm lightly, almost reverently. He's lying on one side in Nico's bed. The curtains are drawn, the light scarce, though enough for Marti to see Nico's lips curl slightly at the question.





	Scars

“How did you get this?”

Marti's fingers trace the scar on Nico's arm lightly, almost reverently. He's lying on one side in Nico's bed. The curtains are drawn, the light scarce, though enough for Marti to see Nico's lips curl slightly at the question.

Marti doesn't know what time it is and he doesn't particularly care.

After lunch, before dinner.

Not that they are going to _have_ dinner. Nico's aunt brought over her chocolate and cream cake and some of it is still in the fridge. They are probably going to eat that at some point tonight.

Not now, though.

Now Marti looks down at Nico's scar and lays a gentle kiss on it. He traces it carefully, caressing the spot where Nico's shoulder meets his arm with the tip of his forefinger.

“That's... quite a story,” Nico says on a exhale.

“Let's hear it then.”

“Are you sure?” Nico asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

Marti frowns, mildly concerned.

“Why wouldn't I be sure?”

Nico doesn't reply – not directly to the question. He looks up to the ceiling and sighs deeply.

“I was ten,” he says, his voice steady but unusually flat. “I... my dad had just published this paper about... I don't even know. It had to do with the multiverse theory, though. They didn't like it.”

Marti stops dragging his finger across Nico's skin. He sits up slowly, as if trying to process what he's just heard.

“What are you- Who's _they?_ ”

Nico shrugs, his eyes fixed to the ceiling.

“I don't know. I never saw their faces.”

“Never saw their faces _when?_ ”

“When they took me. I was coming back from school one day and they were just... there.” Nico nods to the scar on his shoulder. “I was lucky to get away with only this. It was a warning, I think.”

Marti's head is spinning. Like his brain is too slow right now for... whatever _this_ is supposed to be.

“Ni, what the-”

“I know. I couldn't believe either,” Nico interrupts him quickly. He turns his head away from Marti, facing the door and the far side of his room. Marti can only see the back of his head now, and part of his jaw. “'You tell your father humans like him are not allowed to know the secrets of the universe,' they said. 'Tell him to publish a retraction or the Earth will be destroyed in five-'”

Marti groans.

 _God_ , he's such an idiot.

“Fuck you.” He slaps Nico's arm and Nico turns to look at him, giggling. Marti sneers. He can feel himself blush and makes to stand up from the bed. “You're an asshole! I can't believe I was even listening to your idiotic-”

He's not too surprised when Nico grabs him by the waist to stop him from leaving. Marti lets himself be pulled back down onto the bed. He doesn't fight it when Nico climbs on top of him, smiling down at him _way_ too smugly.

Marti crosses his arms in front of his chest, eyebrows raised.

If Nico thinks he's going to forgive him this easily...

“Sorry,” Nico offers. He bites his lower lip to stop himself from laughing. He doesn't sound sorry at all. “Couldn't help myself.”

“Yeah? Too bad.”

“Oh, come on.” Nico pinches his side jokingly. “It was fun! You should have seen your face when I said the aliens kidnapped me after school.”

“ _Hilarious,_ ” Marti deadpans. “Also, you didn't say they were aliens at that point.”

“Yeah, that was the big reveal.”

Nico smiles and leans down for a kiss, propping himself up on his forearms, but Marti turns his head to the side so Nico's lips end up on his cheek. Nico rolls his eyes.

“Are you going to be like that all day?”

Marti shrugs.

“Depends. Are _you_ going to be like that all day?”

“Like what?”

Marti takes advantage of their position to slot their legs together and roll them over. He smiles at the way Nico's eyes widen in surprise when he finds himself lying on his back, Marti straddling him.

“Smug,” Marti says. He doesn't miss the flash of excitement in Nico's eyes. It makes him shiver.

“I can be good,” Nico offers, voice quiet and low. He raises both hands in surrender and smiles as Marti pins his wrists to the mattress, eyes shining.

The thought that Nico could push back anytime – really, Marti may be a bit taller but Nico is so much stronger than he is – but chooses not to is nothing short of exhilarating.

Marti smiles.

“How good?” he asks, leaning down, brushing his lips against Nico's, teasing him.

He was supposed to pull away so that Nico would chase his lips, but Nico has always been magnetic. He doesn't mean to, but Marti finds himself opening his mouth and sighing as he deepens the kiss.

“The best,” Nico whispers against his lips. They both giggle.

*

No matter how playful it starts out, it's always a bit overwhelming afterwards.

Marti looks up at Nico from where he's lying on his stomach on Nico's chest – Nico's hair wild and dark and sweaty, smiling down at Marti in that special way of his.

Nico raises a hand to thumb gently at Marti's ear and Marti feels like he might explode with everything he's feeling.

“Are you gonna tell me then?” Marti asks. Mostly to avoid saying something embarrassing.

_You look like a Greek statue._

_I don't think “I love you” even comes close to everything you make me feel._

“You mean the scar?” Nico says, amused.

“Yeah.” Marti lifts a finger to touch it gently. “But I swear if you make up another story about... satanic nuns, or whatever-”

Nico laughs.

“How amazing would the satanic nuns _be_ , though?”

“ _Ni._ ”

“Fine, no more jokes.” Nico rolls his eyes. “I fell from my bike, had to go to the hospital, and they gave me three stitches.”

Marti frowns.

“When was this?”

“I was, like, five? Maybe six? What are you looking all worried for? It was ages ago.” Nico looks pointedly at Marti. “Now tell me the aliens weren't better than _this_.”

“Whatever,” Marti snorts.

“Sorry, what was that?” Nico grins. “'Ni, you're so right. Your alien story was amazing'?” He slides his hands under Marti's shirt and teases his sides with his fingernails. It tickles, and Marti giggles and squirms in delight. “Is that what you wanted to say?”

“Not even close.”

Nico tickles him again and Marti laughs, pushing Nico's hands away, trying to escape to the other side of the bed. Nico grabs his arm to prevent him from going _too_ far – not that Marti wants to.

He smiles when Nico leans close again and kisses his lower lip.

“You've got one too,” Nico says, as he kisses him again. “Two, actually.” Another kiss. “Scars. That I've seen.”

“You've seen a lot,” Marti says, and Nico wiggles his eyebrows.

“There's a lot to see.”

Marti snorts, and Nico climbs on top of him again, straddling his thighs, and pushes his shirt up to mid chest.

“This one here.” Nico brushes the side of his lower abdomen with the tip of his fingers, feather-light. Marti doesn't even try to pretend he's not liking it and arches into Nico's touch. Nico looks down at him and smiles, pleased with himself. “Appendicitis, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Marti nods, vaguely amused. “I was fourteen.”

“Scared?”

He shrugs.

“A bit. But then my mum bought me the new FIFA 'cause I'd been good, so.”

“I see,” Nico offers warmly. He pulls at Marti's shirt until Marti gets on with the program and pushes himself up so Nico can pull it off. They did the exact same thing no more than twenty minutes ago.

“Turn over?” Nico says, one eyebrow raised, and Marti scoffs but complies.

He anticipates Nico's lips on the nape of his neck before even feeling them. He knows him too well, but still he can't help shivering a bit at the contact.

“And this... I don't know what this is,” Nico admits, sitting back on his thighs and tracing the scar again, this time with his thumb.

“That's just, like... some random kid who threw a rock at me.”

“ _What?!_ ”

Marti can't see Nico's wide eyes and his outraged expression, but he can imagine it well enough. He chuckles.

“Yeah. He was so scared afterwards, when he saw that I was bleeding. He didn't mean to hurt me, he was aiming at my Lego tower. We wouldn't let him play with us and he got mad.”

“We?”

“Yeah.” Marti rolls his eyes. “Gio punched him afterwards.”

Marti hears Nico laugh.

“Of course he did.”

Marti feels Nico's hands on his hips and turns back around. He's taken aback by the softness in Nico's eyes as Nico looks down at him, smiling, taking him all in.

“You're so beautiful,” Nico tells him fondly, and Marti hates that it makes him blush.

“Shut up.”

“Why? It's the truth.”

“Mh,” is all Marti says, but he makes grabby hands at Nico and pulls him down for a kiss. He holds Nico's face, fingers carding though his hair, as Nico's hands wander across his stomach and down his sides.

This is the hardest part, even after all these months. It doesn't come naturally and sometimes he thinks that it never will.

But Nico... Nico is Nico. And Marti loves him, and then some. He can't explain that part, he doesn't have the words – not when “I love you” barely scratches the surface. But the rest of it... maybe he can try.

For Nico.

He slides his hands under Nico's shirt and smiles in the kiss when he feels the muscles tense up under his touch. He breaks the kiss and pulls the hem of the shirt up so Nico will take it off – _again._

 _Take two_ , Marti thinks to himself.

By now, he knows the long lines of Nico's body like the back of his hand, but looking up at him like this still steals his breath away.

Which, ironically enough, is exactly the point.

“You know, like, hellenistic art?” Marti says, as Nico is busy kissing up his jaw.

Nico pulls back, frowning.

“What?” he asks – which, fair. It's almost as random as Nico's alien kidnappers.

“Hellenistic art?” Marti repeats. He's perfectly aware he sounds delirious, but he's started now. He has to go through with it. “The statues, I mean. How they're, like, more realistic than the classical ones and also more, like...”

“Intense?” Nico offers. He clearly has no idea where this is going, but Marti appreciates that he follows regardless. “Dramatic?”

Marti sighs, a bit relieved.

“Yeah,” he says. He makes eye contact, very deliberately, and slowly lifts a hand to touch Nico's arm, the bicep muscle firm and tense, as Nico is holding himself up with his arms.

Marti watches as understanding dawns in Nico's eyes and he lowers his gaze, his smile a bit bashful, his cheeks starting to go pink with pleasure. Marti loves that he can make Nico look like this. But he has to _say it_ now.

He wants to say it.

He tilts Nico's chin up so they're looking at each other.

“I always think of that... when I see you.”

He forces himself to look up at Nico as he says it and it's so worth it. He revels in the way Nico's smile widens, his cheeks definitely pink now – but he's in good company, because Marti can feel that his own are burning.

He feels the sudden urge to explain _everything_.

“I wanted tell you 'cause you always say these things and I'm always, you know, _me_ about it, and, like- But it's the truth, and you deserved it to hear it anyway, and so I-”

“You're something else,” Nico interrupts, voice wondering – a bit croaky too. He shakes his head, almost disbelieving.

He leans down, propping himself up on one elbow, and places a gentle kiss on Marti's forehead, cradling his face with one hand. Marti closes his eyes for a second and breathes in. He doesn't know how many kisses they've exchanged today, but he does know that this one is different.

Huge, monumental.

“I would tell you that I love you but that feels so bland,” Nico says with an apologetic smile.

It makes Marti want to cry and laugh at the same time.

“ _I know._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is supposed to be either :/


End file.
